O Happy Bullet!
by The Humble Mosquito
Summary: A one shot about feelings, a one shot about youth, a one shot about bullying, but, most of all, a one sot about the deep sadness and devastating effects are actions can have. My least popular, but most passionate piece. Warnings: Suicide, violence.


**Disclaimer:** Artemis Fowl, St Bartleby's and a few others names etc are the creation of Eoin Colfer. The title and last line are based on a line from William Shakespeare's 'Romeo and Juliet.' They are used without permission, obviously. Jeff and Kimmy are mine. 

**Authors Notes: **This was difficult to write, but I feel passionately about bullying and I think Artemis is a good example to use. As for the fact that I created a character in Kimmy who I barely use in the important part of the fic, well, she does her job and I'm sure I can use her in the future, even if you guys just get a vague description and then she disappears. Not to mention how stereotypical Jeff is. - Sorry.

I'd love feedback on this.

**O Happy Bullet**

_"Only the best are bullied"_

_- Anonymous_

_Every year in the UK and Ireland at least 13 children commit suicide as a result of bullying._

The cool, breezy air had a spiky sharpness to it, as Artemis roamed out of a pitifully dull Maths lesson. He walked comfortably, at ease next to his only true friend among his peers: a girl named Kimmy. Kimmy was incredibly intelligent; in fact, she was so intelligent that, if she ditched her mischievous but nerd like streak, which had naturally pulled her into Artemis's companionship, she might well have been considered the most talented academic in her year… (After young Fowl, of course.)

They were heading back across what used to be St Bartleby's field; the mud had become unbearable for the upper class teachers, so it was now a tarmac surface, solid black and passionless. It stretched out for a good eight hundred metres on one side of the school. Artemis was heading for a small cabin right on the edge of this, solid dark sea.

His locker, along with Kimmy's and a few others, was situated right at the boundary of the school grounds. Probably, the most striking feature about St Bartleby's was its locker rooms, though 'locker room' is probably a term used loosely in this sense: they were rooms, which happened to have lockers in them – five or six at the most. They were generous in size and were furnished luxuriously. In truth, they were more like living spaces for students, who were allowed to choose whom they shared the room with.

Artemis and Kimmy spent most of their free time in the cabin, reading and using high-spec laptops that the school loaned each pupil. Entering into another student's cabin, without permission, was an expellable offence at St Bartleby's. This rule had reminded Artemis of a similar one that the people had in place about entering Mud Man property. But, more importantly, it meant that no student would dare bother him, Kimmy, or any of the three social retards that shared their temporary abode. Once they were in, no one could touch them.

On this occasion – the beginning of lunch, Artemis was going back on his own. Kimmy had a music lesson. Her goodbye was an unceremonious dumping of her A-level textbooks on top of Artemis's.

But, before she could go, a large group of butch teenagers, with broad shoulders and far too much fat around their cheeks, stepped out in front of them on the vast stretch of colourless ground ahead. Artemis groaned inwardly. Since day one he had had confrontations with groups of St Bartleby's pupils who saw him as rich, easy meat. They resented his intelligence and adored his physical vulnerability. This particular group was led by one Jeffrey Goldstein. He was incredibly stupid, but stupid didn't come close to describing his charges, who survived on little more than animal like instincts. Artemis had tried reasoning, or even ridiculing them, but it was like trading insults about chemical formulas with a swarm of ants.

Jeff and his crowd were blocking Artemis's way across the ex-rugby pitch and all wore smirks of delighted, unadulterated evilness. Kimmy glanced at her watch and then looked nervously and pleadingly at Artemis, as if to say, 'You really need me now, but I'm really late'

Artemis responded out loud, "It's OK Kimmy, I'll be fine; these morons will be in a crumpled mess on the floor by the time I've finished with them." Artemis tried to joke.

Kimmy smiled fearfully, "OK, if you're sure. I'll see you back at the cabin later."

"OK. Bye"

With that, Kimmy's short figure sprinted toward the collection of modern buildings that made up the music department. Artemis couldn't help but smile; only she would deliberately and pointlessly leave it this late to attend the violin lesson she hated so very much. Every time he saw her, the joy he felt for this casual acquaintance reminded him of his deep lonely dissatisfaction.

Artemis set a course just on the left of the pupils that were waiting for him, like a pack of hungry wolves. He was trying to pretend that he hadn't noticed them, or that he assumed that they were there for some legitimate reason that didn't concern him. Unsurprisingly, they stepped across, making it impossible for Artemis to ignore them. Artemis carried on walking, nonetheless.

When he reached their position, he asked flatly, "Err excuse me gentlemen, could I get past please?"

"What you think, boys? Shall we let little Arty go past?" Said Jeff, with his arms folded, and towering over Artemis.

This was met by a collection of sniggers and snorts from his friends. Artemis cringed - more at the absence of a "do" between the "what" and the "you," than at the "little Arty quip." Ignorance, at a stretch, was excusable; laziness with the spoken word simply wasn't.

"Me-got-to." Snapped Artemis.

"Huh?" Was Jeff's perplexed reply.

Artemis sighed. "Yes it's annoying isn't it? - When people miss out words for no apparent reason. Don't you think? Now, _excuse _me _I've _got _places_ to _go._" Artemis said patronisingly._ "_What _do _you think boys?" He added, in a ridiculing Texan accent to the body of the group that were standing just behind Jeff.

Jeff and his cronies looked at Artemis in confusion. Then, to alleviate it, Jeff clicked his stubby fingers. At this, two very plump boys named Robert Perkins and Feddy Thomson moved out of formation and took two great swings each at Artemis stomach before Jeff clicked his fingers once again and the oafs returned into position. It was all very rehearsed.

Artemis bent down to hold is winded midriff, as he gasped for air he felt the comforting jangle of a firearm in his inside pocket. Butler had decided it would be a good idea to arm him given that he wasn't able to protect him whilst he was at school. To his surprise, his parents had agreed,

'_Safety is paramount'_ Angeline had said

'_We must do what we must do'_ his Father had decided cautiously.

His weapon was small, black and light with a silver grip. The trigger was fingerprint sensitive and, naturally, no one at St Bartleby's knew he had it.

As he looked at the floor, Artemis heard the pattering of heels beating against the tarmac. When he looked up, he saw that they had formed a circle around him and were closing around him. Once he extended to his full height, they began to throw him around, his feat often left the floor has he became dizzier and dizzier as his momentum from the previous push took him into the next. His shoulders seemed to be going in different directions. The quiet, relentless chattering of inane insults was deafening.

"Do you feel smart now, Arty?" Asked one.

"Just like throwing a tennis ball." Called another.

"I'll have to wash my hands when we've finished with this slime-ball."

"Look at _it_ bounce."

"Foul!" One quipped, giggling as he scrapped with another to get a hold of Artemis.

Artemis was too weak, inwardly and outwardly, to resist the incessant bumps as he was hurled around like an animal. And he was moving too fast for them to notice the tiny trickles of tears cooling his burning face. The laughs and chants faded into one long slur.

Why were they doing this to him? He didn't understand.

And then Artemis saw, out of the corner of his eye, Jeff – who was orchestrating things, make a signal the entire group paused for just a few seconds. Then, before he could even grind to a halt, they were kicking punching him viscously, like biting dogs cutting into his skin. Soon he was on the floor but they didn't stop; they kicked and stamped on him squashing his spirit as well as his bones. The blood was pouring out of his nose now.

"Stop!" He cried pleadingly, with a painful loss of dignity

Jeff raised his hand and the kicking stopped. Artemis gasped at precious, precious oxygen. Jeff smirked at him in a condescending way, without any hint of mercy in his eyes.

"Not a very a eloquent use of the English language, Arty." He began smugly, "No, I think you need to be taught a lesson; you've been showing us up ever since you came here. Now you're going to suffer." Jeffrey lowered his hand and then barked out his solitary order. "Resume."

And so it did. The kicking, the punching, the bleeding, the pain… oh, the fucking pain.

It was too much. Artemis's soul, burst loose; he couldn't hold his murderous rage any longer; the miniature lion was let loose. He had no power of self control, his intellect and reasoning were suspended, thrust aside, under the weight of a more powerful characteristic: pure, undiluted anger.

He reached inside his breast pocket for the metallic, metaphorical tooth for the cat. It took him several attempts because of the constant thud, thud, thud of feet on his body. But eventually, and in one movement, he gripped it, pulled it out and stood up - with an unexpected power that threw the thugs off balance. He pointed the barrel it directly at Jeff's head.

Instantly, the circle around him moved back a good 5 paces, increasing the radius from the bullies to Artemis. This made him less claustrophobic but it didn't calm him; in fact he felt more at ease to express his evil revenge.

Jeff attempted to keep some composure, but failed miserably.

"HA! That's not real, what… what-t-t-t are y-you doing boys? It's nothing. That's blatantly a fake"

The stuttering bully had made Artemis's day. A humungous grin spread across his face, which had psychosis written all over it. Artemis had never dreamed of this moment but, amidst the delirious passion he was feeling now, he could not think why he had wished for anything _other_ than this feeling of utter power, of importance.

"Ha, indeed," Artemis replied smugly. And then he nonchalantly squeezed the trigger.

Bang! _Again. _Bang! _And again_. Bang!

- Three shots of dark perfection.

Jeff died instantly, as had been Artemis's joyful intention, but his peers, in their ignorance, did not know this. They let out screams of anguish and terror as they gathered around his floppy body with some vague ideas of saving him from the inevitable. None, strangely paid any attention to Artemis, who collapsed instantly to the floor under the mass of his actions, like a bee stinging a threatening beast. He threw the pistol away just out of his reach.

Artemis very quickly returned to himself, though obviously with an enormous amount of guilt and shock. The reality that he had just ended another human being's life hit him bitterly. He couldn't hear the desperate cries of his classmates, only the imaginary drip drop of blood beating against the icy, smooth surface beneath them.

He wept, drowning in his own pain; but no one paid him any attention, no one came to comfort him. And why would they? It was cruel, but sadly fair. Artemis couldn't breathe through the pool of red that had seemingly erupted in his mouth. But no one cared. And why would they?

As the sickly realisation that Jeff was dead finally filtered through the oafs thoughts, they turned their eyes in dribs and drabs towards Artemis slumped figure, but he seemed to burn their retina with his presence. They hated him, now, with intense indescribable feeling. Artemis had a moment of clarity: these monkeys may have had an IQ less than that of the average turnip, but they were Jeff's brothers and, as despicable as he was, they loved him. Artemis _had_ no brothers; he had no one. He let out a ghostly shout out grief that must have been heard in the next village, yet the gang of bullies seemed as deaf to his lips as he was to theirs. To them he was a parasite.

Artemis understood this, but was not unsurprised that they didn't turn and come at him.

They knew he would get his just deserves and he was of no concern to them; all life had been sucked out of him. They wanted to concentrate on Jeff.

Artemis thought he must have sat lazily there, with his eyes closed for an eternity. But eventually he heard faintly above his deepgasps (for he was still short of breath – and sanity, for that matter) the clonks of footsteps coming, battering the tarmac far away from him.

He came out of his self-imposed trance and realised that they were just a minute away across the grounds, for they were running and shouting and crying. The blood bath must have been obvious even from afar. At once, Artemis knew that once they got here, his life, as he knew it, was effectively over. And he knew immediately what he must do. He glanced down to where the gun sat, hauntingly still, for no one had paid it any attention.

With his last ounce of strength that had not flown away in the river of his tears, Artemis crawled over to it. He picked it up and pointed it at his own skull.

"ARTEMIS NO!" He heard Kimmy and his ineffectual, but caring, counsellor roar simultaneously from a few hundred metres away.

Artemis laughed dryly, with a sadness that went far beyond despair or depression.

"Yea, noise? Then I'll be brief. Oh, happy bullet"

And then the coward shot himself…

Dead.

_Every year in the UK and Ireland at least 13 children commit suicide as a result of bullying._

**End**


End file.
